Love is Love
by NixDucky
Summary: In which Dean thinks the phrase "the love that dare not speak its name" is kind of hilarious.


**AN: Happy Birthday Worm! **

**Have some cute Destiel.**

**As this work is a gift for my usual beta, it has not been beta'd.**

**(Please read Two Loves by Lord Alfred Douglas. It's beautiful and heartbreaking.)**

* * *

It had been a long day. Hours spent driving to the killing, doing the killing and driving home again. The hunt had been easy enough, they knew what they were up against, but the fight had been brutal. Seven against the three of them. At one point Dean had been a little worried, looking around and seeing Sam up against a wall with two opponents holding him there while one laid into him with what looked like a piece of iron pipe; Cas in a corner standing over one defeated but with three more advancing behind him, snarling, venom dripping, ready to make the kill. Dean had nearly lost his cool right there.

But they'd made it. They'd done the job and everyone was a little battered but alive, which thankfully, could not be said for the monsters. _Another successful day at the office_, Dean thought, nuzzling a little into Cas's chest, making sure they were touching from socked feet all the way up to their linked fingers. Cas still had his trenchcoat on, which Dean thought was adorable. Sam was already in the shower, but Cas and Dean had just toed off their shoes and collapsed onto Dean's bed, too exhausted to do anything else. Dean thought that they should probably just admit it was _their _bed now. Cas hadn't slept anywhere else in… Dean tried to figure it out, but he couldn't really remember the last time he'd slept there alone. Couldn't have been long after he'd been a demon. Actually, Dean thought that the first night after the demon cure was probably the first time he and Cas had shared a bed. They hadn't done anything. But Cas wouldn't leave him and Dean hadn't wanted him to, so they had just lain together. Pretty much like they were doing now. Dean smiled to himself and snuggled in a little closer.

Yes goddammit, he was a snuggler. And he was fine with that.

Cas was running his fingers through Dean's hair, occasionally picking out bits of bloody guts and wiping his fingers on his trenchcoat.

Dean chuckled. "That's so romantic."

Cas smiled and agreed. It was, for them.

While his right hand continued its task in Dean's hair, his left brought their linked hands up to his lips, and he gave Dean's grazed knuckles a sweet kiss.

"Dean. I've been wanting to talk to you." Cas said it softly, and Dean wasn't really worried but he looked up anyway so that he could gauge the expression on Cas's face.

Cas looked completely content, and Dean put his head back where it was most comfortable, listening to Cas's heart beat steadily in his chest. It _was _Cas's heart now. No one else could claim it since Jimmy Novak had left the building. Well. Dean was pretty sure that _he _could claim it. _Had _claimed it. He smiled again.

"Yeah?" he urged Cas on, softly.

"It's about… this." Cas gave Dean's hand a squeeze.

They hadn't ever really talked about 'this'. Their relationship. And it _was _a relationship. Dean knew that by how it didn't feel like anything he'd ever known. Dean had known sex. Hell, he'd even known love, probably. But he'd never known this complete adoration and acceptance for just who and what he was, scars and all. Dean had absolutely no doubt about the way that Cas felt for him and it was exhilarating. Liberating. He knew that he would never be able to understand why Cas loved him, and he also knew that Cas would always love him. It was simple and sweet and everything that Dean had ever wanted and absolutely knew that he didn't deserve. But he'd stopped fighting it years ago. Couldn't stand up against the force of nature that was Cas's stubborn love. He didn't understand it, but he accepted it and welcomed it with his whole being.

Also, the sex was a_wesome_, with a capital "AWE".

Still, they'd never actually talked about it. It just happened and it just was. End of story. Except now it looked like Cas wanted to put words to it. Words he seemed to be struggling to find.

"This?" Dean loved the dude, but that didn't mean he didn't love teasing him almost as much.

Cas shifted on the bed a little, and cleared his throat. Then Dean heard him swallow.

"Our…" Dean lifted his head to look at Cas again. Cas was looking at the ceiling as though the words he needed might be written there.

Dean grinned, lifted himself onto his knees, and threw one leg over Cas, settling back onto his thighs. "Our what, Cas?" He tried to stop grinning and sound innocent, but when Cas dropped his gaze from the ceiling to look at him, the grin came back. Dean couldn't help it and Cas huffed.

"You _know_." Cas was getting frustrated. Dean knew that he got annoyed with his inability to articulate certain things. Especially things that had to do with his emotions. 'Feelings' type things. When Cas felt something particularly strongly, he tended to shut down. It had caused problems in the past, before their 'this' had begun. Their friendship had nearly not survived a few times, but Dean saw Cas clearly now. Saw how he processed things, and felt things so deeply. And Dean knew all about not being able to talk about feelings. Hell, he was the king of "no chick flick" moments. But he was getting better at it, and one of the ways he had discovered to deal with his emotions was to joke about them. Not to disregard them, but just to make them seem a little lighter.

"You started this, Cas. You mean our big gay love fest?" Dean dropped a quick kiss on Cas's lips before Cas could protest.

"Our Brokeback bromance?" Another kiss. Cas's lips twitched.

"You being the queen to my king?" Cas frowned a little at that, but Dean was busy sucking softly on the skin just below his ear, so he didn't see Cas's face, and Cas was soon distracted anyway.

"You're the chain to my balls," Dean continued, moving once again to Cas's mouth and when his tongue slipped inside Cas was barely listening anymore.

"Is that what you wanted to talk about Cas? Our 'love that dare not speak its name'?" Dean sniggered softly, and mumbled the words again, smearing them into Cas's neck, "the love that dare not speak its name. Heh."

Cas had gone still, not wanting to say or do anything to interrupt the moment. It was the first time that the word "love" had been spoken between them. Cas knew that was what it was, and that was exactly what he'd wanted to tell Dean. But his words had deserted him once again. Trust Dean to know what he was feeling and to find a way to get it out.

Dean sat up again. "Well I dare speak its name! Admit it, Cas." Dean suddenly looked at Cas very seriously.

Cas held his breath.

"You totally want to have my babies." And Dean's face broke into a grin that lit up Cas's entire world.

Cas rolled his eyes, and smiled.

Nodding, he agreed. "Yes, Dean." His gruff voice sounded as serious as he could make it, but he was beaming back at Dean. "I want to have your babies."

"Awesome." Dean said, sounding supremely satisfied, and laying down on top of Cas, placing his ear right above Cas's heart once again. Cas's hand was back in his hair almost immediately.

"I've read that poem you know." Dean had closed his eyes, and spoke quietly, enjoying the feel of Cas's fingers in his hair, and the thump of his heart against his ear.

"Mm?" Cas murmured, pulling at a string of gore that had matted together a patch of Dean's hair.

"'Two Loves'. I forget who wrote it. I found a book on my bed once, open to that poem. It was when you and I were still dancing around each other. Pretty sure Sam left it there. He probably thought I was angsting over this "thing" (he gave Cas a soft poke in the ribs) but I wasn't. Not really. I knew how I felt and I wasn't ashamed, or fighting it. I was just scared at how big it felt. And once I'd read the poem, I felt really sad. That anyone would feel something like what I feel for you, and think it was bad and wrong and something to be hidden. The phrase is funny. But the story behind it isn't."

Cas nodded. "I met that poet. I'd come across the poem and was curious. He was a very unhappy man. He lived an unhappy life and died unhappy. He swung between accepting himself and fighting who he was and it tore him apart."

Dean sighed, and lifted himself up enough so that his face was inches away from Cas's. He looked intently at Cas. Then he took Cas's face in his hands and leaned forward so that their foreheads were touching.

"I love you, Cas. It's real and it's big, and I'm not ashamed and I'm only a little scared. Because I can't lose you. And even if we don't say it, know that I love you every day, in every way, and I always will."

Cas felt his throat get tight. But then Dean sat up again and winked. "You complete me. Like, totally."

Cas knew that Dean meant it though, even through his attempt to lighten the mood. Cas sat up too, and roughly brought Dean's mouth down to his. There was nothing soft about this kiss. It was deep and unrestrained and it meant _everything_. Dean whined a little and Cas clutched at Dean's back, fingers fisting into the fabric of Dean's flannel shirt. He would die for this man, Cas thought. And he knew that Dean felt the same. The passion of the kiss and the intensity of the emotions cocooning them in that moment felt monumental.

Eventually they came up for air. "Stupid breathing," Dean said, gasping slightly. Cas chuckled.

"I love you too, Dean. So much."

Dean gave Cas a soft smile. "I know. And it means so much to me that I know that, without a doubt."

He climbed off Cas, and pulled at his hand. "Now come on. Let's go wash all this gross off."

Cas followed willingly as Dean added, wiggling his eyebrows, "And then we can get each other gross again, but in the fun way."


End file.
